


Walks down memory lane

by everything_that_is_the_case



Category: History Boys - All Media Types
Genre: Akhtar had a kid, I will one day write something nice, Irwin/Dakin flirting, Just give me the time, M/M, Moving House, Nostalgic flashbacks, Suicide, Video camera footage, canon character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-30 08:52:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17825669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everything_that_is_the_case/pseuds/everything_that_is_the_case
Summary: Donald finally moves away from his memories of Posner, but the pain stays on. An unexpected discovery by Dakin helps him remember all the good old days





	1. Brief encounters

**Author's Note:**

> There's a lot of nostalgia, sort of, in this one. If you notice an influx of posting, it's my holidays, and I have nothing better to do. Mentions of suicide, mental health, etc, because I did horrible things to Posner again. At least I might give Irwin a happy ending?

Irwin was reading Nietzsche, Dakin noted as he spotted the lone figure huddled on the bench. He ran over, smiling at the prospect of seeing his old teacher once again. “SIR!” he yelled, approaching the bench with flippant ease. “Sir!”  
Irwin looked up and was surprised to see his former student running at full pelt towards him. “Dakin? What the hell are you doing here?”  
“I could ask you the same sir,” Dakin panted, grinning. He plonked himself down on the bench, heart thudding against his chest. Irwin folded the page and turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised in an amused manner. It pissed Dakin off slightly, when it seemed like Irwin was mocking him, but it had always done that, even at school.  
“Firstly, it’s Tom. No more sir, etc. I don’t teach anymore. Secondly, the new BBC office is here. We just finished filming for the day,”  
Dakin scoffed. “You on telly? Makes sense I suppose. Hector always said you were a journalist,”. Irwin winced at the mention of Douglas Hector, still blaming himself for the death of the old man.  
“What are you doing here though?” Irwin asked, deflecting the conversation off him as usual.  
Dakin sighed and shook his head. “Nothing much. Scripps is moving, and I rather foolishly said I’d help him,”. He stared at the floor. “I think he just can’t face packing David’s stuff up,”  
“David? Like Posner?” Irwin questioned, surprised. “Are they dating? I wasn’t aware Scripps was gay,”  
Dakin grinned. “Oh yeah. Three out of eight ain’t bad I suppose,”  
Irwin stared confused. “Three? Posner, Scripps and?”. Dakin crossed his legs and reclined back onto the bench, whistling nonchalantly. “You? I didn’t think you would be quite so bold, Dakin,”  
Dakin pretended to be shocked, throwing a hand across his heart. “After our drink never happened, I had to look….elsewhere for my experimentations,”. Irwin chuckled, and Dakin could swear there was a flicker of remorse behind his eyes. “Yes,” Irwin murmured. “We must have that drink sometime,”  
They sat in silence for a while.  
“Come with me to Scripps’. We could have a drink there. Might cheer him up to see a familiar face,”  
“Why is he so miserable?” Irwin asked. “You never elaborated on why he had to pack Posner’s stuff for him either,”  
Dakin turned to Irwin, shock emblazoned across his face. “You didn’t know sir? Posner killed himself about seven months ago. Two bottles of pills and half a pint of whisky, apparently. Don found him, but he died in an ambulance on the way to hospital,”  
Irwin sat back, trying to allow this new information to sink into his brain. “Shit,” he whispered. “Shit. I heard about Lockwood, obviously, but Posner? Jesus. Was he ill?”  
Dakin nodded. “Depression and anxiety. Scripps spent so long trying to stop him breaking that he stopped thinking about himself. And now Posner’s gone…I think something broke inside him instead. He doesn’t know what to do with himself. Can’t face the truth. He thinks it’s his fault, reckons he didn’t take enough care of Posner.” Dakin huffed out a sigh, trying to hide the cracks of emotion in his voice. “Utter bollocks. Scripps loved him more than I’ve ever experienced in my life. That level of caring…it took a lot out of him, really,”  
He checked his watch, needing the distraction from Irwin’s horrified silence. “Look, I have to go. Are you coming or what?”  
Irwin grabbed the arm of the bench, pushing himself into a standing position. “The leg’s still not great, but I’ll do what I can,”


	2. My Love Will Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dakin makes a discovery when packing that brings back mixed emotions. Scripps faces up to the fact that he needs to accept Posner is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thanks to the few people who have read this, I know I'm not great but hey, at least I'm trying! I wanted to write something that was happy, but had a tinge of bitter-sweetness, as is my way. I promise you all that I may one day write something that is truly happy. But I'm angsty and bored with no social life, so you're getting what you're reading. Leave Kudos if you like it, and if you want to branch out, leave a comment! Yeah! Not had one of those before, we're really going for it today!

Scripps walked over to the door, breathing deeply. He opened the door to Dakin’s sheepish face and stared in confusion at the lanky figure standing awkwardly next to him.

“Sir?” he stuttered, throwing a dirty look at Dakin.

Irwin winced. “Tom, please. I saw Dakin while I was out and he said he was helping you. I agreed to give you a hand,”

Scripps nodded cautiously. “Right. Ok. Would you like a cup of tea?”

Irwin shook his head. “I think it’s best to just get on with it, don’t you?”

In a way, Scripps was relieved at Irwin’s awkwardness diverting the need for conversation. He and Dakin would only ask him boring questions about how his life was, how work was, how he was holding up. Shit, shit and shit. And inevitably, the conversation would travel to how he was getting on without David, and even seven months later, Scripps wasn’t sure it was something he could talk about.

“Boxes are in each room, labelled. Can you do the spare room, Stu, and if it’s not too much to ask Tom, could you help me do the kitchen?”

 

It wasn’t long into the start of their work that Dakin started to yell from the spare room.

“Don, what’s this?”

Scripps stuck his head round the door frame, laughing s he saw what Dakin was holding.

“It’s Lockwood’s video camera, with all the footage from Oxford, and a couple of years after I think. David put it all onto a DVD last year, it’ll be there somewhere,”

 

Ten minutes of rummaging later, Dakin marched into the kitchen brandishing the DVD as if it was some sort of prestigious trophy. “Please tell me we can watch this,” he begged. Scripps turned to look at Irwin, who shrugged nonchalantly.

“Fine. I’ve not packed the DVD player yet anyway. We might as well,”

Dakin pushed the slot and pressed the remote as he heaved himself next to the others on the sofa.

The screen flickered into life, and a crackling, blurry video began to play. Posner’s grinning face swam into view, and Scripps throat began to tighten slightly. “The camera doesn’t do him justice,” Scripps breathed.

_Posner is running towards the building, laughing and pointing at all the architecture that surrounds him. His voice isn’t audible over the whooping from behind the camera._

A particular whooping cry yelled out, louder than the others, and Scripps’ throat constricted even more as he recognised Lockwood’s long-unheard voice.

_Posner’s satchel is flying behind him as he runs up the paving, turning to smile and wave at Lockwood’s camera._

The camera panned to the side and Scripps blushed as he realised Lockwood had caught him gazing longingly at Posner

_The Scripps on screen smiles wistfully at Posner’s joy. The smile vanishes as he sees Lockwood focusing on him, immortalising his gormless desire. Scripps turns away and stares at the floor, pretending he hadn’t been looking at Posner. Behind the camera, a  low wolf-whistle rings out, obviously from Lockwood, who has noticed it all._

Irwin can’t decide who was more flushed, the Scripps in the video, or the Scripps sat next to him. A faint memory of Posner hanging out of the window of the Cutler’s van, his melodic voice trilling out the strains of Gracie Fields entered his head, and he emitted a low chortle of nostalgia.

 

The next video started almost immediately, and Scripps can’t help but beam with happiness.

_Posner leans rakishly against the piano, smiling down at Scripps, who gazes adoringly back up as the music flows from his fingertips. The clunky instrument bangs out a gentle tune and Posner starts to sing._

_“Quand il me prend dans ses bras_

_Il me parle tout bas_

_Je vois la vie en rose,”_

A tear gathered in the corner of Scripps’ eye as the song drifted out of the television.

_“Et des que je l’apercois_

_Alors je sense en moi_

_Mon couer qui bat,”_

_There is a pure warmth in Posner’s look. His fingers trace the top of the piano in a flirtatious manner, earning a slight chuckle from Lockwood’s end of the camera. “Hope and desire all unfulfilled,” Lockwood’s voice whispered quietly, barely able to be heard over the music. “Have more than rope and hangman killed,”_

Scripps laughed. “Stevie Smith,”. He can’t quite grasp how awfully obvious him and Posner’s love was in the video. Dakin nudged him. “Were you two together in this? Did anyone know?”

Scripps shook his head. “’Bout a month I think. We thought we were being very inconspicuous at the time,”

_The camera shakes as it approaches a wooden door. Lockwood’s childish giggle rings out from behind it. The door swings open to reveal Posner and Scripps lying on the bed kissing, Posner’s hands pressed up against Scripps’ bare chest._

Dakin turned to look at Scripps, who was beet red, on the verge of tears. Dakin couldn’t tell if those tears were of grief and longing, or the more likely embarrassment that his best mate and ex-teacher had just seen him shirtless, kissing Posner.

_An audible gasp can be heard, and Scripps looks up on screen. His face turns bright red as he leaps away from Posner. “Lockwood you little shit!” he cries, Posner burying his head into a pillow, moaning in shame. “What the hell are you doing? Fuck off!”_

_Lockwood’s voice is strained with poorly withheld laughter. “Crowther wanted me to make a video to show him what we’ve been doing while he’s in Sheffield for the holidays,” Another giggle. “He’s going to love this. How long have you managed to keep this a secret?”_

_Posner lets out a muffled groan from the pillow. “Six months,”. Scripps has visibly blanched at the mention of sending the video to his friends. “You better not send that to Crowther,” he whispers hoarsely. Lockwood chuckles. “Crowther? Jesus no, this one’s going straight to Dakin,”_

Scripps turned to Dakin, furious. “I’d forgotten about that. Please tell me you didn’t see that video,”

Dakin burst out laughing. “Remember how easy it was when you came out? We all knew. Lockwood circulated that video months before you told us!”. Scripps groans and buries his head in Irwin’s shoulder, which is shaking with hysterical laughter.

_Posner chucks the pillow at the camera, and it hits the lens, knocking it to the ground. The screen goes black, as the background becomes a mass of giggling and frantic shouting._

The next video was a harsh and sharp contrast to the jokes of before, causing Scripps to shut his eyes, trying to force out the painful twinge of familiarity and recognition.

_Posner lies in a hospital bed. He is deathly pale, weak and fragile. Scripps sits next to him, clasping his hand in a stupidly tight grip. “David love,” he murmurs. “Lockwood’s here to see you,”. David opens his eyes and gives a weak smile for the camera. “Still filming then,” he croaks._

The camera shakes slightly and Scripps imagines Lockwood shaking his head fervently.

_“Keeping track of what everyone’s up to. So we can look back when we’re ancient and regret everything that we’ve ever done,”_

Scripps choked back the tears as he heard that line. Posner and Lockwood would never look back, never grow ancient, as Lockwood said. Both dead, and no one left but Scripps and the others. The History Boys, failed, aging and breaking.

_Posner nods slowly. “That’s a good idea,”. His eyelashes flutter back down to  his cheeks, breaths regulated and tired. “James,” Scripps mutters quietly. “Put the camera down for a sec,”_

Scripps was still stiffened when Dakin slipped an arm round his shoulder. “Which one was that?”

Scripps can barely bear to utter the words that leaked out of his mouth. “First of five,” he said, mouth twisting into bitter smile. “Lockwood managed to film three before he went. Hence why the fourth one happened,”

The next flickered onto the screen.

_Posner is curled up against Scripps on the sofa. The camera wonkily films him snuggling into. “Lockwood, put the camera away for a second,” Scripps exclaims. “Can’t,” a cheeky voice explains from behind the camera. “Totty found out that this one tried to top himself and wants evidence that he’s ok,” Scripps smirks. “Top himself? Always one for tact, weren’t you?”. Posner giggles, and give the camera a trembling thumbs-up._

_“Getting better miss, promise I won’t try again,” he smiles._

There was a bitter twist to those words, Irwin realised. Won’t try again. Posner had obviously thought next time he would succeed.

The camera definition became ridiculously better. A significant time lapse then, Irwin thought. The digital letters at the top of the video signified the year – 1990. One more year of videos before it happened, and Lockwood met the same fate Posner would several years later.

_The camera zooms out of a close up to show Posner cradling a chubby, gurgling baby. He grins lopsidedly at the camera, as the baby squirmed and giggled in his arms. The camera pans to reveal Akhtar standing proudly at the side, gazing at the new child with his arm round his wife. It focuses back on Posner, who is teasing the baby with his finger._

_Scripps walks in and laughs at his partner’s entertaining efforts. He placed a hand on Posner’s shoulder, crouched down to beam at the baby, before pressing a kiss to Posner’s ear. He giggles and pushes him away, then looks up at the camera, his eyes gleaming with joy._  

There would be three more of those babies after that, Dakin thought. Posner would meet two, the last one being born three months after he died.

The final video started to play, and Scripps held his breath as he saw the footage of the boy’s last group holiday before Lockwood died.

_Two people sit, dangling their legs over the wall. They are silhouetted against the pinkish-purple sunset, which they watch with their arms draped lazily over each other. The camera edges closer, neither of them realising they were being filmed. Posner looks over his shoulder, and nudges Scripps, who turns to laugh at Lockwood. Posner smiles shyly, waving at the camera. It zooms in on his beaming face, and he looks straight into the camera, eyes glistening with happiness and excitement. The video ends, fading to black._

Scripps smiled through the tears, the long-forgotten memories bringing a mingled mixture of fresh pain and still-burning love. He wiped away the tears with his hand and turned to look at the boys around him.

“I’ve still got his wardrobe to pack,”

Dakin slung a careless arm around his friend’s shoulder and offered him a hand.

“Come on, we’ll do it together,”


End file.
